


Retirement

by Anonymous



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Not Beta Read, Retirement, unsuccessful translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4902994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Novak announced his decision of retirement when he was 35.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retirement

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fanfic in 2012 when Nole wasn't married, so the marriage part was different from the reality. But that's why it's called fiction.  
> After watching US Open final, I felt a surge of pride of my OTP and decided to translate it since I might add a new fic under the same settings. It's not word for word translation, besides, I've made some changes.  
> Not beta'd. Not native speaker.  
> Chinese version: http://sunny0421.blog131.fc2blog.us/blog-entry-237.html

Blackberry in hand, Novak stared at the name in the contact list on the screen. He wanted to call Roger, but gave up after having second thoughts. This was definitely not the first time that he hesitated before making a simple phone call, but probably would be the last time.

ATP would hold a retirement ceremony in honor of Novak Djokovic, former world number one and 14 Grand Slams winner, at the beginning of World Tour Finals scheduled the following week. Novak’s performances weren’t quite satisfactory during recent years. He hinted about the possibility of retirement at the beginning of the new season and officially announced his decision at the press conference after losing to a qualifier in the second round of US Open. He was 35 years old now, just the same age as Roger when he retired.

To everyone’s surprise, media often compared the late-career stage of Djokovic with that of Federer, not their playing style or achievements, but their personal life. Novak married longtime girlfriend Jelena at the age of 28 while the bride was found pregnant. No one knew exactly who first pointed out the coincidence or when, but the buzz got its peak when Novak announced the wedding would be held on April 10th, one day before marriage anniversary of the Swiss. Now journalists and commenters had even more juicy gossips to drench in. They analyzed and re-analyzed the statistics and discussed excitedly about what a great rivalry and beautiful coincidences between these two of the best players in tennis history.

Novak browsed a few tennis news sites and checked his twitter mentions. No one would ever know it wasn’t that innocent and coincidental, but he would never admit it, even to himself.

He wanted to ask Roger if he would attend his retirement ceremony, but finally decided not to and put the phone away.

 

Novak was never really close to Roger, maybe because of the six year age gap, maybe because being the elegant tennis icon, Mr. perfect was out of his league.

The Serb was fighting for every point he could add to his ranking in challenger tour while the future dictater of tennis had already set out on his way to the empire of 17 Grand Slam championships by winning Wimbledon title. He was struggling in the first rounds of Grand Slams while everyone knew one of the finalist seats was reserved under the name of Roger Federer. Yes, he was doing well considering his age and ranking. He was on a quick and stable rise and broke into top 100 two years after turning professional. He was the youngest of top 40 players one year later, but that was far from enough. For years, he was nothing but an outsider, watching that man reign over the tennis court, watching him reach a height that no one had even come close to. He kept practicing and working hard, but it seemed it was impossible to truly catch up with Roger whatever efforts he made.

They didn’t get along during early days. Arrogant and naive, Novak had no one but himself to blame for the tension between them. They did experience a few unhappy moments, but there was nothing too harsh or near the level of “hate”, which some people believed thanks to the media who had exaggeration in their nature. Only when he grew mature did he realize he should be careful about what he said and acted before public. They were on friendly terms since then. They greeted with smile when passing each other; they chatted amicably when waiting for an event to begin; they congratulated and complimented each other on achievments with and without camera rolling on. They were friends, not as close as Novak would like, because they were rivals above all.

 

Andy was the first to call Novak after his announcement. His phone buzzed almost as soon as he left the conference room. Andy asked about his after-US Open tournament schedule, about his winter vacation plan and other nonsense, though they both knew the unsaid topic was what he really wanted to talk about. Novak smiled soundlessly. Andy was still his childish self, sometimes expressing his feelings in an awkward way, even though he was the father of two kids.

But Novak could not help but speak about the elephant in the room. “Andy, I have made up my mind.” He said softly.

Andy hung up the call without a word after a long silence. Novak cringed as if he could feel his angr through the electronic device. He understood why Andy was pissed off. Andy kept complaining there were fewer and fewer players from their generation; it was difficult to find common interests with young kids due to different background; all the fresh faces were a reminder that he didn’t belong to this sport any more. Novak often wondered if Roger felt the same when he faced them at the other side of the net.

“Nole, we should retire together, what do you think?” Andy once asked. Novak didn’t give a positive answer, but Andy maybe took it as yes. It was not that he didn’t want to response. How could he promise something he didn't have a clear answer to? He would have a word with Andy when he calmed down, he thought.

 

Novak received a lot of calls and texts of blessings. The media began to review his career: the winning streak, the epic Australian Open final, highlights of all the important Grand Slam matches. They interviewed some players evaluate his achievements, but the person whose comment he valued the most didn’t say anything, his secret wish unfullfiled.

 

World Tour Finals was held in the O2 Arena, where he was a frequenter many years ago, but time had changed, the honor of world's top eight fell onto the shoulders of the newcomers, and then the newer ones. Novak arrived early, so he decided to spend some time revisiting the arena. The matches weren’t supposed to begin until several hours later, but the lights were already turned on, brightening the center area and leaving the seats on the stand in dark. It turned the tennis court into theatre stage, players actors, which was a design concept Novak aprpreciated very much. Only one focus was needed and that should be the players.

He wandered around the stadium, reliving the memory of all the familiar places: hallways, gym, restaurant and players lounge. Novak stopped before the room of the current world number one, putting his hand against the door. He imagined the room behind it: the chair he sat on calming himself down; the towel on the table he used to wipe the sweat with; the mirror engraved with his name he looked into for final check. Time was slipping away and he didn’t realize it until it was too late.

Novak moved on along the hallway and turned at one corner, suddenly appeared before his eyes was a familiar face – the one and only Roger Federer.

Novak knew he must look dumb, standing still with wide eyes and staring at the person, as if he feared the said person would disappear in a blink of eye. Roger maybe found it funny since he chuckled and slowly walked over to him. He wore a light gray suit, well-tailored and good taste (but seriously, when didn’t he?). Time had thinned his hair, brought him more wrinkles, nevertheless, he was elegant and dreamy as ever.

“Novak, long time no see.” Roger greeted.

It took Novak a few seconds to school his expression. Smiling, he said, “Yeah, a very long time.”

These two moved to the players lounge to continue their small talk, although Novak was not quite sure what exactly they could talk about.

“Why are you here?” Novak asked the question he cared the most, but pretended to be casual.

“Oh, the organizer invited me. I heard there would be a special ceremony for someone.” Roger smirked mischievously. Did he wink just now?

Novak mumbled, “Nobody informed me.”

Roger laughed out loud, eyebrows lifted, “Sorry I spoiled the surprise. It seems I’m not welcomed as I expected.”

“Of course you are very welcomed.” Novak quickly said, then paused befor adding in an earnest and sincere tone, “Thanks for coming.” He felt like a missing piece was found and the unseen empty in his heart was finally filled.

 

The ceremony itself was quite simple. He had attended many retirement ceremonies and knew clearly the process, and today was his turn.

Novak walked onto the court after the host said his name, waving to the audience who was applausing. He saw the best single and double players standing in a row. They were young and hopeful and full of potential and everything he was not. On the other side were Roger, Rafa and Andy, who were invited by the organizer as special guests. They had long occupied the top four in ranking, leaving the other players to compete for a vacant position in quarterfinals. This was the first time all four of them had reunited after Roger and Rafa retired, but ironically, it was for the purpose of saying goodbye. Andy looked at everywhere but Novak, obviously he hadn’t got over the whole retirement thing. Novak flashed a most charming smile at Andy as a peace offering, but Andy ignored him.

The ATP president made a brief speech saying they would show a short clip of Novak’s career on the big screen. Everyon looked up and Novak saw a familiar yet strange face. A child of no more than 5 years old made efforts to swing a tennis racket while he could bearly hold it; A big boy, maybe about 20, tucked a strand of golden hair behind his ear, pushed out the ass for drama effet, and made the serve with a high pitched scream; A young man help up a trophy above his head, eyes shining, grin bright enough to lighten up the stadium, pride all over his face. Novak heard faint choking sound somewhere. He looked around and saw Andy not so subtlely wiping the tears. He would totally have made fun of Andy if he was not so busy controling unshed tears.

Then the president presented him with a framed white board, on which there was a list of achievements and a photo. Novak recognized the photo. It captured the glory moment of his first Wimbledon championship. What good old times! A photo could freeze a moment and turn it into eternity, but it could never stop the wheel of history.

Novak hugged all the people one by one, first the young generation, then Andy and Rafa. He wanted to say something, but no words came out when he opened his mouth, so he chose to express he emotions through a tight hug instead. He had known Andy since they were 12 years old, so it was safe to say they shared a lot in one way or another for the majority of his life. He was a true friend. Tennis was not all about victories, prize money or getting famous. It also meant finding an opponent who could be your equal, motivate you to show the best performances and push you to the limit. A good rival made him remember why he enjoyed playing tennis in the first place.

And finally, Novak took a few deep breaths before walking to Roger. Suddenly, he felt like nothing had changed at all. He was still that inexperienced boy who set foot onto the court of Grand Slam final for the first time, facing arguably the greatest player of all time. He had chances, but failed to convert any of the 7 set points. He was a little bit annoyed, but not unhappy, after all, seldom people could win their first final. He stretched out his arms, just like what he did back in 2007, but this time there was no net between them, under different situation and with a whole different meaning. Novak could smell the cologne the Swiss used, Roger’s curls brushing his neck. When they separated, Roger’s left hand glided down along his arm and unexpectedly touched his pinky, Novak’s right hand jerked as if it got burned.

 

Novak went back to the hotel by car arranged by the tournament when the ceremony was finished. The scenery outside the window moved backwards, the arena getting farther and smaller.

He dreamt about a lot in childhood. Hiding in the basement and waiting for bombardment to stop, little Novak dreamt about becoming a famous tennis player and winning Wimbledon title. Who would have imagined a little boy who grew up during wartime in Yugoslavia could turn to a national hero and make his dreams come true? The fate was fair to him, giving him a happy family and a prosperous retired life. He knew he was lucky and couldn’t ask for more.

He cover right hand with left hand, fingers gently stroking a small patch of skin on right pinky, as if the warmth of a certain person lingered there. He knew he left something behind, in that arena, such as memories, feelings and undying hope. Novak let out a long exhalation of breath that soon dissipated in the air.

See? Not difficult at all.

Fin


End file.
